Dealing With Wolves
by starknakedgendry
Summary: They remind him at every chance they can get, except that they could not do anything about his closeness with the youngest Stark lady. Arya has threatened to stick 'em with the pointy end and none of these Northerners wanted to meet the pointy end of Needle. Gendry/Arya oneshot.


He knows the King in the North watches him with eagle eyes. Or wolf eyes, if he wants it to be more as it should be.

Arya does not seem to notice it, but Gendry does. The weight of the King's stare adds to the weight of the borrowed armor he is wearing. He longed to tell Arya how her eldest brother refuses to leave the training grounds every single day when they practice with swords; standing in the sidelines with his knights as his little sister and the bastard blacksmith slash and parry against each other. Gendry finds it hard to concentrate, giving Arya the advantage of catching him off-guard and throwing him off balance despite his burly stature. Their practice would end with Arya grinning from ear to ear before she stands on tiptoe to reach his lips; her mouth firmly planted on his until she decides to pull away. Gendry still feels uncomfortable when Arya kisses him in full view of her people, although she's told him so many times in the past that she does not care what other people think and that he's an idiot for still thinking that she cares about trivial matters such as these. But for Gendry, this is no trivial matter. And he feels it more with how her brother, the King, watches them.

Today was especially different, because after their usual practice and after Arya kisses him goodbye before leaving for the castle, Robb Stark walks up to him with a dour expression on his face. Gendry didn't know if he should pretend not to see him or wait until the eldest Stark approached. Robb made the decision for him, though, when he gave a small nod and stood directly before him, making Gendry uneasy with the close proximity. How could he not, when the Northerners keep reminding him to steer clear of nobility.

_These are lords and ladies; you cannot eat supper at their table._

_Stick with your own kind, boy._

_It is not fit for a bastard blacksmith to meet the King's eyes. Mind your place._

They remind him at every chance they can get, except that they could not do anything about his closeness with the youngest Stark lady. Arya has threatened to _stick 'em with the pointy end_ and none of these Northerners wanted to meet the pointy end of Needle.

"A word please, Gendry," Robb said with an authoritative tone. Grey Wind stuck close to his side, watching him too with eyes that remind Gendry of his owner.

"Of course, Your Grace," Gendry replied with a bow.

They walked silently for several minutes to a path Gendry recognized as the Godswood. He's been there with Arya countless of times, enough for him to trudge down that path whenever he felt like it, even without her around. When they were in complete privacy of the trees that seem to watch his every move – yes, even the trees watch him – Robb turned to Gendry and sighed.

"I notice your closeness with my sister," he said in an even tone. "I assume that with the way you and my sister kiss, that you have feelings for her in the same way she must harbor feelings for you."

That wasn't even a question, Gendry noted.

"The Lady Arya is special to me, Your Grace," he responded without looking at the King.

Silence.

"Do you love her?

Gendry looked at the King in the North and made sure his eyes were in direct contact with his eyes.

"Hopelessly, deeply and completely, Your Grace."

And the King in the North laughed. It shocked him to hear the King laugh over his confession, whether it was in relief over it or simply to mock him, he did not know. But Gendry stood there with a confused expression on his face, and waited until the man got over his glee.

"I know I am not of noble birth to be worthy of your Lady sister's love," Gendry said when he couldn't wait any longer. "But I only have the noblest of intentions and will never do harm to your sister. I work in the forge every single day, and hard work it is I do until I can no longer feel my arms and fingers from beating on metals and repairing all that needs be repaired. But I work hard not only for myself now, but I do it for Arya. I do it because I want to prove to everyone that I am capable of taking care of someone other than myself."

Robb returned his stare unwaveringly.

"Your Grace," Gendry added quickly when he realized he had forgotten his courtesies.

Robb waved a hand in dismissal at the blunder.

"I am grateful to hear those words from you but you must let me think on this before I make my decision."

_Wait! Decide on what?_

"As deemed appropriate, you are not allowed to be together, for my sister must be wed to someone who is of the same or of a higher stature than she is. I'm sure you know this, Gendry."

Gendry could only nod.

"But as we all know," Robb rolled his eyes, something that Gendry would have laughed at had they not be discussing _very _serious matters. "My sister is as bull-headed as the rest of my brothers, and the Starks are known for being non-conformists to rules."

Gendry gave a small smile.

"Let me think on this, Gendry, and you shall have my answer in the morrow."

Robb turned to take his leave but Gendry's words stopped him in his tracks.

"You are a good man, Your Grace, and especially admirable as a King. And I say this not because I am trying to kiss arse, but because I know you are one right at the moment we stood side by side during the battle to win Winterfell back."

With a final bow, Gendry took his leave before the King could make his.

* * *

He took the steps two at a time.

He had been working in the forge for the most part of the day, not even pausing to have his midday meal. When he was finally free to do so, he ran up the tower to where the ravens were found. He quickly took a small piece of parchment and scrolled the only few words he knew how to write. But even so, she would know it was from him. After all, it was her who taught him to write the words.

He was sitting on the floor, the piece of parchment on the space in front of him and the quill in his right hand. He was painstakingly writing the words, and that was how Jon Snow found him.

Arya's older brother froze at the sight of him on the floor, parchment and quill in his hand. Jon raised a brow in question, to which Gendry only shrugged in answer.

"I didn't know you could write," Jon said as he took his own parchment and quill from the table. The ravens started cawing at the disturbance but the two men paid them no mind.

"I asked your sister to teach me a few words."

"Arya taught you to write?"

"Just a few necessary words I asked of her. I was surprised that she was patient at the task."

Jon threw his head back and laughed. "I have a mind to say you jest, but then again you're the only one my sister has trouble saying _no _to."

Gendry tried to hide his blush.

Jon was silent for a while, writing his own message on the parchment before tying it to the raven's leg. It started cawing and flapping its wings in anticipation of his new errand, until Jon held it out the window and out it flew. Gendry realized he was watching Arya's bastard brother and he couldn't help questioning him.

"Did the late Lord Eddard teach you to write?" Gendry was about to add _Milord_ at the end but stopped himself. Jon might think he was being mocked by the title. After all, they share the same reason why they can never be more than what they are now - a bastard.

"Yes," came his short reply.

"At least you had a father to teach you how to write. I only had my Mum but she died even before I could hold a quill properly."

Jon didn't know how to respond to that so instead, he asked Gendry what he was writing and to whom he was sending a message for.

"It's…it's for Arya."

"If it's not so much of a secret, do you mind me asking what the message is all about?"

"It's…it's a bit embarrassing, Jon…"

"Do you know that I sent the wrong raven once to my father by mistake? It was supposed to go to a girl I met outside of Winterfell. _That_ was embarrassing."

It was Gendry's turn to laugh. Jon smiled too, although he didn't press the matter any longer. He did not know if Gendry would respond to his query, so he turned towards the door to take his leave.

"I am writing to Arya to tell her that I miss her, that is all."

Jon noticed that Gendry was beet red from the admission. He thought Gendry would no longer speak of it, but the blacksmith pressed on.

"Could you help me with something?"

Jon was surprised but he tried not to show it. He merely nodded. "What would you like me to do?"

"I...I only know how to write the words _I miss you_ and how to sign my name, but I would like to add something else. Could you…could you help me, Jon?" Gendry added, his round blue eyes staring at him in silent plea.

Jon took the parchment and quill from Gendry and took a seat beside him. "What would you like me to write?"

"I love you."

Jon's head whipped towards his so fast he must be in pain right now. "Excuse me?"

Gendry raised both his hands and explained. "I mean to say, I'd like for you to write the words _I love you_ to Arya. From me."

Jon's brows furrowed, but still he started writing on the paper. Gendry could hear his heart beat as furiously as the quill scratched on the paper, until Jon stopped writing and rolled the piece of parchment. He held it out to Gendry, signaling to him to tie it to the raven's leg. Gendry would have wanted to ask if Jon wrote the exact words and not something else, but since he could not read and write nor could he run around the castle grounds and ask everyone who could read if Jon did write as requested, then he would have to trust Jon on this. With a deep sigh, Gendry tied the message to the raven and held it out for its impending journey.

"Thank you, Jon."

Jon only nodded, although his expression was pained. He is, after all, Arya's favorite brother, and this must not come easy for him. "She's coming back the week after this. You need not miss her for long."

With a last look at the blacksmith who claims to love his sister, Jon turned swiftly to the door and took his leave.

* * *

Gendry had been busy working on a dented breastplate when she walked in. He was utterly surprised with her appearance that the next thing he knew, his hammer slipped from his grip and right onto his thumb. He quickly dropped the hammer and held his injured thumb, biting the side of his cheek to keep from shouting expletives in the presence of a lady.

"I am sorry to have surprised you with this visit."

Gendry squeezed his eyes one last time, forcing back tears brought about by the excruciating pain. He's guessing his thumb would be swollen in a while, possibly turning black and blue if not a broken nail even.

"It is an honor to find you in the forge, milady. I am simply distracted today," he said, placing his hands behind his back to keep her from seeing him in pain. "How can I help you, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa walked warily towards him, and Gendry's instinct was to scan the entire room. The forge was in organized chaos (he says it so but Arya says it's just pure chaos), the floors and walls were dirty, the tables covered with tools and scraps of metal. It was hot inside despite the cold Northern weather, and only Gendry loved being inside the forge. Well, Arya too. At least he thinks so.

The disdain in Sansa's face was evident, and Gendry felt a flush of embarrassment. She did not even try to hide it when her perfectly-arched eyebrows rose and her lips sneered in disgust. Everything was filthy and it seemed like she did not want to stay there longer than she had to. Her pretty gown would end up covered in soot and never has Lady Sansa been seen dirty and unkempt.

"I need you to fix this dagger I have," she said, pulling out a small, beautifully crafted dagger wrapped in cloth. It was what they call a _Lady's Hair Dagger_, where the knife is fitted to an oval barrette and may be carried at the back or the side of her head, like a hair accessory. "It was a gift from someone, and I have always kept it with me since the day it was given of me. Can you sharpen the blade like how it was first made? I fear that Rickon has made it blunt by playing with it without care."

Gendry took the blade from Sansa and studied it. It was a pretty dagger, made especially for a lady's means of protection, but still with fashion and style in mind. He doubted Sansa carried it as much as Arya carried Needle, but he didn't even have to ask that. Maybe it was just the gift's sentimental value that made her want to preserve it and keep it close at hand.

_Who was it that has given her such gift? _Gendry has heard whispers about her and the Hound, but he left the gossiping to the busybodies. He would be a hypocrite if he said he didn't care about people talking about him and Arya, and so he left Sansa's business with the Hound to them and them alone.

"I can sharpen it and restore it to its original state, milady. How soon do you need it back?"

"Take your time. I have no real need for it, unlike my sister and her Needle that my bastard of a brother has given her."

He paused at the mention of Arya, and cringed at her use of the word _bastard_. The act did not go unnoticed by Sansa.

"I'll leave you to work, Gendry," Sansa said before pausing at the forge's entrance. "I know you care about her. Do you dare deny it?"

After a moment's pause, Gendry replied, "No, milady."

"But I am sure you know that Arya would soon be sent off for marriage to a man whose stature is equal to or higher than what she is now?"

Gendry looked to the ground and remained silent.

"It is best to face the cold, hard truth, smith. It might be best for you both to know that this will only end in heartbreak unless you keep to your own side of the fence. Good day, Gendry."

The swishing sound of her pretty skirt was like the sound of a slap across Gendry's cheek.

* * *

"I'll be back, Bran! I need to send for Maester Luwin before we leave. Do not move an inch, Bran!" shouted Rickon as the young lord ran back inside the castle.

"I'll just be here, not moving an inch," muttered Bran, his voice sounding of both sadness and sarcasm.

Gendry was sitting on a wooden barrel in front of the stables, taking a break from a hard morning of forging, when he saw the two young Stark lords. He discreetly observed Rickon as he pushed Bran around in a wheelbarrow. As the youngest Stark said he will be fetching Maester Luwin from inside the castle, Bran was to stay put on the wheeled apparatus until Rickon returns to wheel him out. He noticed that Bran looked glum as he sat there doing nothing but to wait.

Gendry would have preferred to stay invisible, taking huge bites from his apple, as he paused from his work at the forge. He paused in mid-bite when Bran tried to reach for the small leather ball he failed to catch and has rolled onto to ground. He was debating with himself whether to help the young lord, but since Arya was not around, he had been _steering clear of the_ _nobility_ to avoid getting in trouble. But Bran was having a hard time reaching for it until he lost his balance and fell out of the wheelbarrow. Gendry ran quickly to help the young lord back into the cart, the boy grasping onto the front of his woolen tunic for support.

"Thank you, Gendry," Bran said with a smile. "I failed to catch the ball and I tried to get it back but it rolled farther from my reach. Well…you know why."

Gendry looked to where Bran was pointing and he decided to say nothing. He wanted to tell him that despite his disability, he is still one of the brightest boys he has ever known. But the moment became awkward and so he spoke nothing of it.

"How have you been lately? I haven't seen much of you, what with Arya gone to visit Aunt Lysa at the Eyrie."

"Everything is fine, milord," said Gendry.

"No need for formalities with me," Bran said with a shake of his head. "We are friends, are we not?"

"Yes, Lord Bran," he said because he figured mentioning his name along with his title would be more acceptable than just _milord_.

"Oi! Gendry!" exclaimed Rickon as he ran back towards them. "Haven't seen much of you lately!"

"Been busy at the forge, milords."

"That's horseshit! We know Sansa threatened you last week, didn't she? Wait till Arya hears about it!" Rickon said with an evil glint in his eye.

"No! It's fine, milord! I do not wish to be acquainted with Lady Sansa's dagger, not when I've just sharpened it to be deathly sharp!" Gendry said in protest.

The young lords laughed. "In case you didn't know, Arya asked us to watch over you while she's away. And Arya _has to know_ that Sansa came to pay you an unexpected visit. Right, Bran?"

"Of course! Pay our elder sister no mind, for she is merely being _Sansa_!" Bran quipped.

Gendry smiled at both boys' words of encouragement, but he knows there is more to the issue than just _paying no mind_. It was an issue of birthrights and feudal classes and Gendry knows he is at the very bottom, not only for being born without a lord's name and title, but most especially for being born a bastard.

"Where are you both off to? Should I call Hodor to accompany you both?" Gendry asked.

"We're off to the Godswood. Robb and Jon are off to hunt, and Sansa is being her usual snooty self. I find that I am in no mood to tolerate Snooty Sansa today," replied Rickon with a frown.

Gendry knew that Rickon was the more feisty of the two boys, possibly taking after Arya. No wonder Shaggydog is the most difficult direwolf to control.

"How about your direwolves? Shouldn't you go fetch them? It is dangerous for you both to be out there without guards."

"Summer and Shaggydog are out to hunt, but they will come to us at the Godswood. They find us eventually, do not worry yourself so," Bran replied with confidence. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Yes! Let's get away from Snooty Sansa if only for today!" Rickon exclaimed excitedly.

Gendry thought for a moment before responding with only a grin.

* * *

"They're back! Arya and Uncle Benjen are back!"

Gendry heard Rickon's shout from outside the forge. He stopped hammering on the dented helmet he was fixing to listen to the commotion outside. His heart leapt from his chest to his throat as he thought about Arya riding toward the castle grounds. He wanted so much to rush out there and be part of the welcoming party, but he knew her brothers and sister would be out there as well.

He knew it was the cowardly thing to do, but he stayed where he was and proceeded to beat on the helmet twice as hard as necessary. He could hear bits of the excited conversation going on; and from where he was, he learned that the Lady Catelyn was left for a prolonged visit to her sister. She would return in a moon's time, leaving her daughter and brother in law to return with half of their party on the way back to Winterfell.

He was working on the 7th helmet for the day when he heard her angry voice rushing towards the forge. Half of him wanted to welcome her back with his kisses, but the other half was dreading a confrontation. Bran and Rickon must have _reported_ to their sister by now what transpired the week before, seeing as the young lords were adamant in letting Arya know about what Sansa said to him.

He'd been working hard the whole day and he wasn't looking forward to an angry Arya. Her kisses would far be better than a scowling face.

She stormed into the forge without a sound, making Gendry think that she really is _swift as a deer _and _quiet as a shadow_. She stood at the entrance, staring at him as he let go of the hammer and tongs he was holding. They stood there for a while until he heard himself whisper her name.

She came running to him then.

It was a tangle of arms and limbs and lips and tongue between him, the bull, and her, his wolf girl. A moon apart was too much for them and now they gloried in each other's kisses and whispered words as he welcomed her home. He realized he may possibly be hurting her, but she was responding to him with kisses as fierce and as desperate as his and so he knows everything is fine.

He felt her wound her legs around his waist and he placed both hands on her buttocks to help support her weight. He laughed at how swiftly he has come to this aroused state and Arya responds with a laugh of her own, even biting his lower lip to tease him further. He groaned in response and he carried her towards his room in the back, careful not to hurt her in their descent to the bed. He is aware that his is no featherbed like what she has up in her castle chambers, but they've been together so many times on this bed that he's already lost count. Whether to just sleep entangled in each other's arms or to make love until the wee hours of the morning, his straw mattress trounces her featherbed anytime.

This was not their way - the usually unhurried, slow and gentle task of undressing and making love. This was rough and fast; the way she grinds herself on his lap and how he grabs her thighs to show how much he likes this pace. He feels her nails rake the length of his naked back and he groans in response. He whispers her name again before burying his face between her small, pert breasts. Her gasp of pleasure made him smile as he alternated between kisses and licks before softly biting on her hard nipples.

It was his turn to gasp when she sneaked a hand between them and grabbed his fully-aroused member. Up and down, up and down her hands went, and Gendry's eyes rolled to the back of his head. A hoarse cry rose from his throat as he felt Arya flick the wet tip before letting go.

"I need you," he whispered in her ear before biting on the lobe. Without a word, Arya lifted herself from his lap and slid down on his arousal.

"Oh gods, Arya!" he groaned. She started bouncing up and down, alternately grinding and shifting to slow movements and then repeating it over and over. Gendry's hands were firmly planted on her hips, guiding the pace he wanted but at the same time letting her move as she wanted.

When she threw her head back and started chanting his name in short bursts of breath, he knew she was close. He moved his hands to her back and shoulders, taking control of the movements from thereon.

"Oh gods! Harder! Harder, Gendry!"

And he didn't wish to disappoint his little wolf girl, so he lay back on the bed and took her with him. They were chest to chest; her on top and him below, keeping his arms around her back and his hands on her shoulders as he pounded into her furiously. Her whimpers turned to soft cries; her soft cries turned into shouts as Gendry pounded into her until she found her release.

It wasn't long till he found his.

He shouted her name as he rode out the hardest release he's ever had in his life. They kept up with the thrusts, although the movements have slowed and now jerky, until eventually they stilled.

Gendry shifted so he could gaze into her eyes and she smiled in answer. He smiled back before placing a kiss to her temple. It was in moments like these that Gendry forgets that he's only lowly bastard blacksmith and she a lady, because Arya makes him forget about people like Snooty Sansa. And she makes him forget about the world outside the forge and all that awaits them as soon as they step out. And she makes him proud and she makes him happy and she makes him hold on to the hope that no matter what, it was him and her until their last breath.

He presses another kiss, on her mouth this time, and she hums in contentment as he whispers _I love you_ to her and she whispers the words back.

"Welcome home, my wolf girl."


End file.
